


Five Kisses Emily Fields Never Had (On Screen)

by speakpirate



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: 5 Things, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:26:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakpirate/pseuds/speakpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always about Alison, even when it's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Kisses Emily Fields Never Had (On Screen)

The other Lady Gaga, the one who wasn’t Alison, sat down next to Emily. The noise of Noel’s party was fainter from here, a little ways into the woods, where Emily had wandered in the hopes of being alone. Emily’s mouth suddenly felt a little dry. She’d had trouble keeping her eyes off the new girl and her costume earlier, she’d stared so hard that Ali called her out on it. But the scariest thing of all was that the girl seemed to have noticed too, seemed to smile like she wasn’t freaked out, like maybe she understood, maybe she liked the attention.

“Are you okay?” the new girl asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Emily answered, pulling herself together enough to make her mouth move into a bit of a weak smile.

“I’m Jenna,” the other Gaga said, holding out her hand. It started out as a normal handshake, but something about it felt a little electric. Also, Jenna hung on for a few beats too long.

Then it dawned on Emily that she was waiting for her to introduce herself back. “Emily,” she said. It was all she could come up with.

“Are sure you’re okay?” Jenna asked. “You pulse is racing,” she said, “I can feel it.”

“It’s nothing,” Emily said, her stomach feeling fluttery in a way that was different from the sour liquor churn that sometimes followed these parties. “Someone played a prank, I was scared.”

“That’s the thing about Halloween,” Jenna said. “Everybody’s wearing masks.”

“I guess,” Emily replied, distracted by the fact that Jenna still had hold of her hand, was running her fingers across the pulse point at Emily’s wrist.

“That guy you were dancing with in there, is he your boyfriend?” Jenna asked.

“No,” Emily answered, the lie springing to her tongue, a complete surprise. Jenna looked her in the eye, and it was a little eerie, like she could see more than she was letting on, but the intensity of her focus made Emily flush.

“What about Alison,” Jenna asked. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“N-no,” Emily stammered, shocked. “No. Why would you even think that?”

Jenna didn’t answer right away. Instead she leaned over, kissed Emily on the lips. Emily’s brain felt like fireworks were exploding all around. Jenna tasted like dark chocolate, and her hair smelled like smoke. Emily kissed her back instinctively, her tongue darting shyly into the other girl’s mouth. Emily put her hand on Jenna’s cheek, brushing her fingers against the synthetic blonde wig. The her brain formed the first coherent thought she’d had since the kissing started. 

_If only she were Alison._

Jenna broke the kiss as suddenly as she had started it, almost as if Emily had said the words out loud. Emily felt a rush of cold air as they pulled apart.

Jenna stood up, brushed a few leaves off her costume. The look on her face was completely unreadable. “You’re cute, Emily,” she declared, “but you’re a terrible liar.”

*****

Emily was sprawled on the seventh step of the Hasting’s staircase, just high enough to keep the living room in sight without being too obvious about it. She was playing look out for Alison, who was on an unknown mission on the second floor. Something important, something she refused to give details on, something that she didn’t want any of the Hastings - who were all milling around outside hosting their annual summer cookout - to find out about. Part of Ali’s charm was the way she could make any regular day seem a little dangerous, serve up a slice of minor espionage with your burger and potato salad.

Emily jumped up as she heard a door slam downstairs, and panicked as she saw Melissa Hastings storming towards her, an angry expression on her face and a purple wine stain blossoming across the front of her white sleeveless blouse.

“Melissa!” Emily exclaimed in what she hoped was a loud enough voice to alert Ali. 

“Emily?” Melissa said, confused. “What are you doing on the stairs?”

“I was - looking for Spencer,” Emily lied. 

“Oh, Spen-cer,” Melissa fumed. “Spencer just ruined my shirt, and is probably outside right now trying to see how many of my ex-boyfriends she can make out with at one party.” Melissa’s voice was getting loud, and she seemed a little unsteady on her feet. Emily wondered if she was drunk, and prayed that Alison was finished with whatever her business was upstairs. “It’s like, you can’t just go through the world kissing anyone you want, the moment that you want to. That’s not how it works.” 

There was a crash from upstairs, and Melissa’s head swiveled confusedly toward the noise. “What the hell was that?” she asks, trying to push past Emily to investigate.

Emily thinks about trying to tackle Melissa, or trip her and make it look like an accident, but there’s no time to make a plan, she only has half a second, and so she does the first thing she can think of - she kisses Melissa. It’s just a quick peck on the lips, but it succeeds in diverting Melissa’s attention completely.

“Pathetic,” Melissa says, in her former Prom Queen voice. “You know what we say in my family, Emily? Practice hard, or you’ll never be good at anything.” She wraps a hand around the back of Emily’s neck and kisses her authoritatively, like maybe she wrote a term paper about kissing once and is now giving a presentation to demonstrate her expertise. 

Melissa’s tongue tastes like sour wine and salt as she slides it into Emily’s mouth. Her lips as soft as modeling clay, they tickle Emily’s like feathers.

There’s a noise downstairs, the front door banging open, and Emily moves away from Melissa as quickly as if she’s been burned. 

“Run along,” Melissa says with an eyeroll and a wave of her hand as Ali appears at the bottom of the stairs. She must have climbed down a tree, Emily thinks.

“Did you get in trouble?” Alison asks when Emily reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Melissa overhears from the hall landing upstairs, and her voice carries back down coated in sarcasm. “I think Emily learned her lesson.”

*****

Emily had just come back from the library, was wheeling her bike into the garage, when a black sedan pulled into the drive. She felt her heart drop in her stomach, so sure that men in military uniforms were about to get out, about to knock on the door with a folded flag and formal apologies. But then a window went down in the back, and Ali, dressed in a dark wig, sunglasses, and bright red lipstick motioned for her to get in.

Emily scrambled into the backseat, and the car slid smoothly out of her drive. “Alison, what’s going on?” Emily asked, taking in her friend’s jet black wig, stylish red trench coat, the choker around her neck that looked like it might be made of diamonds. 

“Haven’t you ever wanted to be someone else?” Alison said flippantly. “Alison can be a very tedious person. So today I’m Vivian.”

“You’re so weird,” Emily giggled, and might have pressed the issue if Vivian hadn’t chosen that moment to move her leg a bit, showing off a slit that ran almost the entire length of her thigh. “Where are we going?”

“The City,” Vivian said, grandly.

“Ali, I can’t go to Philadelphia! My mom is expecting me any minute.”

“I told you, it’s Vivian,” her friend snapped. “And maybe Emily can’t go to Philadelphia, but Therese Belivet is coming with me to New York.”

“And who is that?” Emily asked.

“You, silly. Come on, text your mom, tell her you’re staying at Spencer’s or something.” The dark glasses tilted downward, and a gloved hand moved to Emily’s knee. Vivian leaned over and whispered, “There are things Vivian and Therese can do, things that Alison and Emily can’t.”

Vivian’s lips moved closer to Emily’s. Emily’s heart was racing, she moved forward eagerly into the kiss. Vivian tasted like gin and expensive lipstick. She kissed Emily aggressively, pulled their bodies closer against the leather seats. Emily felt the cold prick of the jewels at Vivian’s throat against her own, heard the sound of Ali’s voice moaning a little through the layers of pretend, and felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was as if her whole body was on fire, Vivian was sliding her body backwards, wrapping her legs around Emily to keep her close.

“Therese,” she whispered, and Emily instinctively jerked back. “What’s the matter?” Vivian asked with a huff of impatience in her voice. “I know you want me. And I want you, too.”

Emily took a deep breath, disturbed by the realization that even Vivian’s perfume was different. It smelled dark and sophisticated. “I want to be with you, Ali,” she said. “But I don’t want to be anyone else. I’m Emily. And….I want to kiss Alison.”

She reached a hand over and slowly started to remove the dark wig, when Vivian smacked it roughly away. There was a look in her eyes that was hard to pin down - it was a mixture of sadness and rage, desire and envy. 

“Fine,” she said, coldly. She rapped on the divider, signaling the driver to stop. She opened the door and practically shoved Emily out. “Run along home if you don’t want to play, silly little girl.” 

*****

 

It was after school, and Emily was the last one out of the locker room after swim practice. She had the school hallways entirely to herself as she slung her gym bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the front doors. She was already thinking about the bike ride home. About keeping her eyes on the road, not looking at any of the windows that display Ali’s missing poster.

And then, as if the thought of her name had summoned her into being, Ali was there as Emily turned the corner, walking to a locker. Emily’s heart leapt inside her chest at the sound of Ali’s heels clacking against the tiled floor, the trademark sway of her hips, the golden hair. She’s wearing her blue sleeveless shirt with the gold fringe epaulettes on the shoulders, Emily was shopping with her when she bought it months ago, Ali putting on a little show in the dressing room.

Before she can even think about what she’s doing, Emily is running, she has a hand on Ali’s shoulder. As Ali turns towards her, Emily lunges forward and kisses her, flooded with happiness and relief. Emily tastes Jungle Red lipstick, smells Alison’s coconut oil conditioner, and feels a lump in the back of her throat. This is real. It’s not a dream. Alison is here. 

For a full three seconds, it’s everything Emily has ever wanted, because Ali is kissing her back automatically. But her body feels softer somehow, the kiss a little sugary, generous and with a hint of surprise. It’s the surprise that breaks Emily’s heart. Nothing has ever surprised Alison DiLaurentis, not ever. She opens her eyes and sees Hanna’s face staring back at her, eyes wide with astonishment, blinking curiously beneath Alison’s trademark shade of eyeshadow.

“You look just like her,” Emily whispers, horrified. She backs away, stricken, and runs as fast as she can down the hall and out of the main doors.

She hears Hanna calling after her, but she doesn’t turn back, she doesn’t stop until she’s outside kneeling down to unlock her bike, when she doubles over and throws up into the bushes.

Emily pedals home as hard as she can, her mouth tasting like vomit and artificial sweetener and regret.

*****

Emily finds Shana’s car parked outside the church, Shana herself lurking in the shadows outside the building. “Where’s Alison,” she demands, without preamble.

Shana stares at her incredulously, checking her watch. “I took you to her forty minutes ago,” she replies, raising an eyebrow as if Emily is stupid. “Did you lose her already?”

Emily shoves her, surprised at her own aggression. “I’m not playing around, Shana. Where. Is Alison.”

Shana’s eyes flash angrily. “I’m sorry if your little meet up didn’t go the way you planned, Emily. But I did my part.” 

“Not good enough,” Emily insists. “Call her. Right now.”

“She didn’t tell you how to reach her?” Shana taunts. “Guess you really _were_ her favorite.” She tries to walk past Emily, throwing a dismissive shoulder against her as she goes, but Emily grabs her arm.

“Can you get a message to her?” Emily asks, her eyes haunted and intense.

Shana stares at Emily’s hand wrapped around her forearm, then leans in and kisses her. The kiss is as rough as it is sudden. There’s a grittiness to it that makes Emily think of gunpowder. Shana kisses like she swims, fluidly and competitively, her lips questing for dominance. 

Shana breaks it off with a smirk. “That is what you wanted to tell her, isn’t it? I’ll do my best to pass it along.”


End file.
